


Reflection

by twowritehands



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, He's Mando Jr Now, ManDadlorian, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 09:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21456124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twowritehands/pseuds/twowritehands
Summary: The Mandalorian prepares to deliver the asset.
Relationships: The Mandalorian & The Asset
Comments: 24
Kudos: 458





	Reflection

The child had slipped out of its cradle again and was waddling freely through the ship. With a sigh, the Mandalorian initiated auto pilot and went after it. Upon being scooped up a little roughly, the asset let out a shrill giggle. _ Weeeeeeheheebeheeee _

Feeling a swelling kind of heart pain, the Mandalorian hooked the creature in the crook of his arm and strode over to the cargo bay. 

Carbon freeze plates: the ultimate babysitting accessory.

Except that, as he paused to figure out how to properly position the tiny wee thing in the apparatus, he realized something. Something perhaps obvious but nonetheless disheartening.

This time when he sighed, the asset sighed, too. Happily imitating him as if eagerly learning to speak his language.

The Mandalorian shifted the wriggling kid to his hip and checked more closely for conformation of what he suspected. And yep. There it was.

Typical.

Fine print on a safety information plate on the back of the carbon freeze unit said it was not to be used on infants or toddlers under 6 years of age.

Even though the gene code digits assured him that his asset was 50 years old, what he held in his arms was clearly still in a tender developmental stage. So carbon freezing it could cause real lasting damage….

In his arms, the child blew spit bubbles on its lips and gurgled happily. 

So with a growing sense of his own doom, the Mandalorian returned the child to the cradle and--losing more than a moment or two in the deep innocence of its huge black eyes--he closed the lid.

*

The Mandalorian stopped at a port halfway back to the client. He told himself it was to repair his weapons, refuel both the ship and himself, catch up on some rest and allow him time to rinse and polish his armor before the drop off.

He couldn't deliver the asset while looking half wrecked. If word got out that the difficult jobs were actually difficult even for him, he'd lose the reputation he had which landed him the high rates and best bounty pucks.

Also, he knew his Imperial Client was super shady and likely to try something. Best to be better rested--okay, healed--before stepping back into that stormtrooper nest.

It took him the better part of a day to clean and repair his weapons. Then the rest of the day to get the mud off his armor, out of all the little cracks and crevices.

In the privacy of his bunk, the Mandalorian balanced his helmet on his knee and worked to buff some scuff marks out of the dome. Those damn jawas pelting him with desert trash. He should have disintegrated a few more of them….

Movement caught his eye and he looked to see--what else--but the child waddling to stand at his knee. A flare of white hot instinct had the Mandalorian snatching up his helmet to put it back on… but he paused halfway. The child was peering up at him, and okay it always did that, but now it had a tilt to its head and a smile. 

The Mandalorian felt vulnerable and far too naked. It was looking at his _ exposed face _ . Looking at _ him _, not the legend…. 

Its big ears wriggled. It waddled forward and extended its tiny three fingered hand, resting it oh so carefully on the curve of the helmet.

It seemed stunned. Blinking it awe. The Mandalorian realized this was because it could see its own reflection in the baskar. Had it never seen a reflection before? In fifty years?

The Mandalorian picked up his shoulder plate--newly rinsed and polished to an even greater shine than his helmet--and handed it out like a looking glass.

The child took it in both hands and peered at itself for a moment or two, but then it turned the plate around and held it to its own chest. Then it looked up at the Mandalorian as if to ask, how do I look?

The Mandalorian smiled. He had a vague thought of sponsoring a Foundling. Ridiculously enough, said Foundling took the shape of _ this _ particular asset.

He cleared his throat, snatched the pauldron from the child's clawed hands and shoved his helmet on his head as if to block out unwanted fanciful notions.

He had to deliver the bounty. He was honor bound. And it wasn't like he hadn't done it countless times. A lot of those other bounties had been kind and seemingly harmless. He'd had no qualms turning them over for the money.

So why did it feel so wrong now?

**Author's Note:**

> Mando might be a little slow on the uptake here lol


End file.
